


Smokescreen

by Lazarus76



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crime, Beck is unstable, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, M/M, Peter Parker does not have a clue, Predator/Prey, Quentin Beck is a nightmare, Villain Quentin Beck, Wanda and Hope are great friends, alternate universe - ordinary life, reader needs to wise up quickly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-26 10:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarus76/pseuds/Lazarus76
Summary: He's gone. Why?More importantly...with whom?And where does that leave you?





	1. Where?

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired this week by a fic called Faces, written by Anonymous. Its a great fic and should be read. 
> 
> Also inspired by the fact that being married to Quentin Beck would be enough to drive someone to madness. Gorgeous on the outside, ugly as sin on the inside...IMHO.

"Are you Ms (Y/N)?"

"Yes. Detective Hill?"

"That's right. This is my partner, Detective Demitri. May we come in?"

You nod, walking away from the front door, thereby allowing the tall, slim woman and her partner - a severe looking, equally tall man - to enter. Biting your lip, you gestured to the front room. Hill and Demitri walked into the spacious area. You followed, and stood by the door frame. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." Hill perched herself on the armchair. Dimitri stood. You cleared your throat. "Would you like tea...? Coffee...water?"

"Thank you for the offer, but no." Hill gestured to you. "Let's begin. You're reporting your husband missing. When was the last time you saw him?"

You sat down yourself, opposite hill, on the sofa. "This morning. About five to seven. I was going to work, he was still here. Drinking coffee. He was planning on leaving at about eight."

Hill nodded, and wrote this down on a small notepad. "What do you do?"

"I teach at the local High School." 

"OK, what does Mr do?"

"Beck," you correct the detective. "We kept our last names. He's Mr Quentin Beck."

"I see."

You were trying to keep your tone calm, but you wanted to scream at her. What did she see? "He's an ICT consultant."

"Right. Where does he work?"

"Stark Industries."

Hill paused in her writing and looked at you. "Have you ever met Tony Stark?"

"No," you replied, honestly. "Quentin never took me to any of the functions there. Mainly because they were always on week nights, and I have to get up early in the morning."

"So, you left for work just before seven...did you speak to him?"

"Yes," you reply, a touch defensively. "I kissed him goodbye, and he kissed me back, and he said 'I'll see you this evening, probably about eight.'"

"So he informed you he was coming back last night?"

"Yes." 

Hill stretched her hand, and looked at you again "Would you mind running through what you did yesterday? It would help. Because..." she trials off, and you do not need her to complete her sentence. _It means we can eliminate you._.

You swallow. "I went to work, on the bus. Got there about half seven. Taught most of the day, although I did have lunch with a couple of colleagues." You pause. "Hope Van Dyne, Head of Science, and Wanda Maximoff, Psychology teacher. I left work at about four - I was marking essays until then, from three."

"Thank you." Hill nods. "What did you do after leaving work?"

"I went to the gym. Its only ten minutes from work. Stayed until after five, then came home - got home about twenty to five. Had a shower, made some coffee, watched something mindless on Netflix, then at about seven I started to cook."

"Can anyone verify that's what you were doing between five and seven?"

You think. "Wanda. She texted me at about six thirty to ask if I wanted to meet her, Hope, and a couple of others for drinks. I texted back that I needed to cook."

"OK, that's good." Hill nodded. "Can I have the details of these colleagues, please? I'll also be checking at your gym that that's where you were." You flinch, and she notices. "I'm sorry," she said, gently, "but it is just procedure."

You nod, reassured. "Thank you."

"Right, so we're at seven o'clock. What did you do?"

"Prepared dinner." 

"Which was...?"

"Pasta. Chicken. Wine."

"And then...?"

"I waited. Quentin didn't come in at eight o'clock, but I thought he could be a little late, traffic, or held up at work. Or out with his own colleagues."

"Did you try calling him?"

"I texted."

"Response?"

You picked up your phone, and scrolled through your message threads. "Sorry I'm late, got chatting to William, will be home soon - this came through at half eight."

"How long did you wait?"

"Until ten." You feel a flush spread over your face, as though you should have called Stark Industries earlier. "I rang, and spoke to Mr Hogan, he's Head of Security. He checked the network. Quentin had left at six."

"So he wasn't at Stark until half eight."

You look at Hill. "I guess not."

"You have no idea where he was?"

"No."

"Are his clothes still here?"

"Yes. Would you like to check?"

"That would be very helpful." Hill rose to her feet, and followed you as you walked up the stairs of your two bedroomed, two story townhouse. You walk into the bedroom, and open the wardrobes. "Full."

Hill nods, running her eyes over the suits, shirts, and dress slacks that comprise his half of the wardrobe. "What about the drawers?"

You pull them open, revealing underwear. Jeans. In the bathroom, his toothbrush is still there, along with his cologne, shaving kit, and shower gel. Hill nods again, and writes. 

"OK. We're going to file a missing person's report." She looks at you. "I know this will sound trite, but try not to worry. There is possibly a simple explanation." She looks at her watch. "Its two in the morning. We're going to check the hospitals, and see if any incidents have come in."

You nod. "Thank you."

"Try and get some sleep." She smiles, and there's a hint of warmth. "We will be in touch."

The detectives turn and leave. As the door closes, you sink into the armchair, wondering if you can wake up from this.


	2. Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking through his behaviour proves to be somewhat baffling. 
> 
> Nod to Gone Girl. Credit where its due.

"OK, time for your essays on the causes of the First World War to be handed back." You pause, the papers in your hand. The class sit and most are leaning forward, expectant, hopeful, and you note as you cast your practised eye over their faces, one is decidedly nervous.

"So, let's get these back to you...Betty - excellent detail, very solid writing. Flash - a little bit too creative in places, but overall, not bad...Michelle - clearly a lot of extra reading here, some very divergent thoughts, which is always good to see...Ned, your work is coming on leaps and bounds..." on you go, handing back the papers, into waiting hands. Until you reach the last one, by which point you're standing back at your desk. "Peter," you say, calmly. "Please see me at the end."

A dark head snaps up. You look at him, and he's biting his lip. An expression of mild anxiety appears to settle on his features, then quickly passes. You pick up your board pen, and continue with the lesson. 

++++++++++++++++++

On the last bell of the day, everyone files out, except Peter. He comes to your desk. "Ma'am?"

You smile, warmly. "Pete. Have a seat." He nods and obliges. "Your essay..." you hand it back to him, the prominent "10%?!" written clearly on the top of the front page in red ink. Peter flushes slightly, then meets your eyes. "I'm sorry...I guess I forgot to research the question properly."

"It looks as though you forgot to write the essay. I have two paragraphs!"

Pete looked, flushed again, and the grinned. "Yeah, you're right. I'm...I'd like to write it again."

"No need." You look at him. "I'd rather you focused on our next module. And if you need assistance...you can always ask."

"Thank you." He looks down at his hands. "I really appreciate what you do for me, I really do!"

With that, he picks up the paper and leaves. You watch the door close, then feel your android phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out, you smile as you click open the call. "Hello Quentin."

"Yeah, hi honey. What time are you going to be back tonight?"

"Er..." you look at the clock. "Probably about five. I just want to get some lessons planned."

"You mean I actually get you to myself this evening?"

"You know you can have me to yourself whenever you want."

He chuckles. A rich, warm sound. "I guess I just need to ask more."

"You do."

"OK...so shall I pick something up on the way home?"

"Much as I know you techies love to survive on a diet of pizza and doritos, as long we we're married you'll eat real food." You hear a soft, but slightly exaggerated sigh. "OK, tell me again, you can maintain the body of a matinee idol on junk, but I'd rather have you healthy, and without diabetes and heart disease."

"Its a deal." He pauses. "See you later."

"See you later."

He clicks off. You put the android on your desk, but then a thought occurs - he didn't say specifically why he wanted to know the time you'd be home. Shrugging, you flip open a textbook.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Oh, so glad you're here!"

You blink as he pulls you into an embrace, planting his mouth firmly on yours. "Hey, careful!" Your bag, and keys, are dangling out of your hand. 

"I'm always careful with you." He's grinning. "Just...really good to have you home."

"Quentin." You look at him. "Why..." you pause. Then you look at him again. He is almost laughably good looking, with light blue eyes that appear capable of piercing your soul. You've expressed in a quiet moment to Hope that you sometimes feel your punching above your weight. That he should really be with a model. But he says you make him laugh, and he can hold a conversation with you, and you actually understand the world. 

"Why not?" 

You smile. "Let me dump this, and I'll be back in the kitchen."

Ten minutes later, a pot of tea is inbetween the two of you. He takes sip from his cup, while you stir. He looks at you. "You OK?"

"Yes...no." You look at your tea. "I had to speak to a student. I think I may have upset him."

"Oh." Beck takes another sip. "What was it about?"

"He handed in an essay that was barely there. Two paragraphs." You shrug. "I haven't called his aunt, which I should do, as she's really hot on his schoolwork, but I-"

"Don't want him to have a hard time?"

You look at him, grateful he understands your thoughts. "Absolutely." You bite your lip. "But I like his aunt - she's very straightforward, and she's raising him on her own."

"But he needs to be an adult and tell her." Quentin leans over and takes your hand. "You no doubt handled him with the care and compassion that I know you have."

You smile at this. He always says the right thing. "You're probably right."

"You know the house rule. I'm always right."

You smile at this. His self-confidence in unshakeable. He leans over and kisses you again. "Tell you what, why don't you go and shower, and I'll cook."

You raise an eyebrow. "You want to cook?"

"Yes. Its a sign of love. Go. Shower. And I'll try and resist the temptation to come up and scrub your back."

"Should I let you cook? Or will you just order pizza?"

"Oh, you got me. Compromise. Chinese."

"I'll indulge you."

"You always indulge me."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

You blink, and wake up. You fell asleep in the armchair, and now soft rays of daylight are dancing across the floor. You swallow and pick up your phone. Five thirty in the morning. 

You check your phone. Nothing.

You rub your forehead. Its Friday. You need to go to work. You need some normality.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As you enter the school campus, you notice something's awry. A police car is outside, and as you walk up the steps, you can feel whispers of unease. You walk up the steps, and   
suddenly notice Detective Hill. She's as immaculate as she was the previous evening, but her jaw is set. "Ms (Y/N)? Can we talk?"

"Yes." You feel your pulse starting to race. "Is it...is he...?"

"No." Hill looks at you. "A student has gone missing. He didn't come home last night, and his aunt is frantic. This student was taught by you in the last lesson of the day."

Your heart starts to thud, slowly and painfully. "Peter?"

"Yes." Hill nods. "We've got a missing husband, and student. The only connection is you."

"Detective, am I being arrested-"

"No!" Hill looked shocked. "I'm sorry, this is a confusing and upsetting time." She looked over. Principal Morita, his face creased with concern, was walking over. "(Y/N). How are you?"

"Stunned," you admit. "My husband has gone missing and so has one of my students." You look at Morita. "I've had nothing to do with it."

Morita looked shocked. "No-one thinks that. But I do think you should talk to the Detectives about Parker. You're the only lead. Then I want you to go home, and sleep. And call me on Sunday. Tell me what's going on."

You nod. As you begin to walk down the corridor, you notice Wanda. Her dark eyes are full of concern, and she mouths "I'll call you" as you walk past. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"OK, thank you for telling us." Hill nodded, and smiled. Her smile this time was kind. "So, you thought Peter's behaviour was out of character?"

"Yes. He's normally very hard working, very studious." You bit your lip. "But, he just seemed a bit...scatty. Distracted."

"OK. And did you ring his aunt?"

"No. Quentin rang me." You look at Hill, slightly sheepish. "Ringing May Parker slipped my mind."

"Understandable." She looks at you. "There is one question. Did your husband's behaviour change at all in the last few weeks?"

"A couple of little things." You look at her. "He was growing a beard. I found that a bit strange, as he'd always been clean shaven." You shrug. "Plus he'd put on a little weight, especially round his middle." You sigh. "God. He's not even here, and I'm criticising him."

"I've heard worse." Hill looked at you. "So, if we asked for a picture, the pictures you have, wouldn't really look like him?"

You feel something cold and ugly move through your gut, and its twin is awakening in your mind. "No." You look at Hill and smile, wryly. "No, it wouldn't".


	3. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations.

"Let's get a drink."

Peter looked up from where he was carefully loading underwear into a drawer. Quentin was standing by the door, smiling. 

"Is that a good idea?" 

"Yes." Quentin looked at him. "I doubt anyone will come after us. I'm an adult, and you're seventeen. So therefore...there is really no issue."

"What about..." Peter paused - "your wife?"

"What about your aunt?"

"May will want me to be happy." As he spoke the words, they dissolved into ash in his mouth. "But your wife...she's - she's-"

"Let's get that drink."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Half an hour later, Beck was downing a bottle of beer, whilst Peter sipped lemonade through a straw. Beck swallowed, and then began to speak. "My wife...is a special person, Pete. She's loving, kind, and generous."

Peter nodded. "She's always been really good to me. She helped me with my application for the Stark internship!" His voice faltered. "Everyone likes her!"

"I know they do. I married her." Quentin took another swallow of beer. "But you've got to understand, I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean for you to walk into my lab, and for me to suddenly hear angels singing, thunder crashing - look, whatever it was, it was love at first sight. And that's not what happened with her."

"What did?"

"I met her, and she intrigued me. She is clever, and funny, and interesting. And very attractive." He took another swig from the bottle. "And at the beginning it was very passionate, and very intense. We were both...insatiable."

At this, Peter blushed. Quentin smiled. "Sorry, kid. I'm not trying to embarrass you. But...it got comfortable." Quentin looked uneasy. "It all became about...companionship. That's part of the reason why I've put on weight and I'm looking so scruffy. She does love me...but I think she enjoys nurturing and comforting me. More than wild, intense feelings."

"But...do you think we'll get like that?" Peter looked at Beck. "Comfortable?" 

"Yeah, but hopefully together. Not where one party is feeling that they're no longer a focus of interest. She's supportive of my ambitions, we do talk, and I really do care for her, but its not passionate anymore." Beck looked at Peter sadly. "But she'll always be my best friend. If you're ok with that."

"Of course!" Peter nodded. "I mean, she's a great teacher, and she really cares about all the students, and she spoke about you once saying that-" Peter stopped abruptly, noting the way Beck's eyes slightly widened then narrowed. 

"What did she say, Peter?"

"Well, I shouldn't have overheard it." Peter looked guilty. "I was waiting outside the classroom, and she was talking to Ms Van Dyne, and she was saying how she was planning something really good for the weekend."

Quentin chuckled. "I think I know what you're referring to." He smiled wickedly. Peter blushed before continuing. "Well, Ms Van Dyne said that she spoiled you, and Ms (Y/N) said you were more than worth it."

"Wow," Beck said, looking down quietly, "she really does care for me. And Peter, I really care for her. But...as I said, its not intense, its not passionate. And when you meet someone who you can't live without, who makes you feel you're going to die if you're not with them...there's nothing you can do about it."

"That's how you feel?" Peter asked quietly. 

"Yes. We'll get divorced, and once the dust has settled, hopefully she can stay in my life, as my closest friend, and hopefully you and she can build a good relationship." Quentin drained the last of his beer. "I don't think that's too much to ask. The two people I love the most in the world - albeit in different ways now - to be friends. You can't blame me for wanting something of a normal life." 

"No, Quentin," Peter said, shaking his head. "Its not too much to ask."

"Good. I know people believe what they want to believe, but I genuinely would like to believe it can work." He smiled and put the bottle back on the counter. "Right. Bed?"

"Why not?"


	4. Unfolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recollections of an earlier time. 
> 
> Thanks if you're reading this. :) It is appreciated.

"It looked...as though they were fighting."

"Fighting?"

"You know." Darcy waved her hands in the air to convey helplessness. Hill rose her eyebrows, and cocked her head. 

"No, I don't know." She spoke carefully, enunciating her words. "You need to tell me what you saw."

"I had to ring her on her iPhone, as her husband was in the lobby and wanted to see her."

"What happened?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You'd hurried down the corridors to the lobby, from the hall. As you walked into the reception, Quentin was there, sitting on one of the comfortable chairs. He got to his feet, smiling. 

"Beck!" He leaned down, and kissed you. "Why are you here?"

"Just wanted to see you. I was wondering when you're going to be back?"

You looked at your watch. "Probably not for another couple of hours, maybe three. Parent consultation evening, and I have to see the parents."

"Why don't you..." he leaned down, whispering softly into your ear - "why don't you tell them that their child is amazing and is a credit to them? You'll be out of here in forty minutes."

"Beck..." you look at him, and smile. "You know I can't say that, and yet you always insist I should. And...I don't. So...maybe its time for you to think of a new tactic."

"But come on," he said, almost insistently. "It would be easy. Its easy to fool people when they're already fooling themselves. And I suspect a lot of these parents are fooling themselves about their children."

"Its not up for discussion." His hands were round yours, and you tickled his palms. "I'll-"

"Ma'am?" 

You turn round, still holding Beck's hands. Peter, a sweet faced 17 year old, is standing in the lobby with an attractive dark haired woman, whom you guess is his aunt. "Are you our first appointment?"

"That's right, sweetie." You let go of Beck's hands. "I'll see you in the hall, OK?"

As the Parkers walk away, Beck looks at you, raising an eyebrow. "Sweetie?"

"Nothing wrong with showing that you care about them as people," you respond, a touch defensively. His face cracks into a grin. "Its not a criticism. Its...sweet." He leans over again and kisses your cheek. "So, you're not going to help these parents fool themselves?"

"Nope." 

"I married a girl scout."

You look at him. "You didn't say that last night at midnight." He chuckled, softly. "I'll let you go."

You walk down the corridor, and don't look back. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Wrapping yourself in a soft robe, you sink onto the bed. You'd left, had a bath. You looked at the nightstand clock - 3pm. You probably should eat something, but the prospect makes you feel slightly sick. You pick up your phone, and click on his number. 

Straight to voicemail. 

You decide to go downstairs. As you do, you hear a knock at the front door. 

As you open it, you feel a twinge of hope, which deflates rapidly when you see its Wanda. "Hi...its good to see you."

Wanda blinks. "You were hoping it was him. That's fine, I'm not offended." She is holding a covered dish. "I brought you Paprikash. I thought it might lift your spirits." 

"Come in." As she walks inside, you close the door. You both head to the kitchen. She places the dish on the counter. "What's happened?"

"Quentin's vanished." You look at her, then sink onto one of the chairs. "Just...left. Leaving his stuff. His clothes. As though he wanted to be rid of me and our lives together." Wanda says nothing, merely opens a cupboard, and get out plates. Turns on the oven, puts the dish inside. Then she speaks. 

"I'm sure he hasn't just left."

"I don't know." You look at the counter. "And if he has...I think he might be with somebody."

Wanda's eyebrows go up. "Who?"

"Peter Parker."

At this, her jaw drops. "Your husband...has gone with a _student_?" She shakes her head. "No, I don't think Quentin would...he wouldn't betray you like that..."

"Quentin will do anything he wants," you say. "In fact, if he has got Pete, he's probably laughing at how easy it was."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Should we get up?"

Quentin blinks and looks at his phone. "Its after 3. We probably should. But..." he sighed. "I'm enjoying this."

"So am I, but, what if your wife has called...?"

Quentin grabbed his phone. "So she has." He drops the phone on the bed. "Do you think I should call her back?"

"Well...yeah. I mean she probably wants to know you're ok."

"You're right." Quentin turned over, and touched Peter's face. "I will call her. But not right now."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"The truth. I've fallen in love and need to be with that person." Beck shrugged. "She'll believe what she wants to believe. And trust me, Pete...she generally believes anything."


	5. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurts when naivety is revealed.

"Coffee?"

You turn over, thinking for a second that its him. He's back, leaning over you with a cup of coffee in his hand, ready to trace his finger down your arm to stir you to wakefulness. He never got tired of doing it, even after five years together and two years of marriage. 

"(Y/N)?"

The moment breaks, and you realise that its not Quentin, but Wanda. She stayed the night, as she didn't want you to be alone. Last thing you remember is her urging you to go to bed. You slept. Clearly the exhaustion caused by wondering over Beck's whereabouts had finally caught up with you. 

Now she's standing at the side of the bed, holding a mug. You sit up, smile and accept it. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Wanda perched herself on the edge of the bed, the petite woman made such a simple move look indescribably elegant. "I've been thinking. Maybe you should contact Stark HQ. Find out if they know anything about his disappearance."

"Stark?" You take a swallow of coffee. "I...I never went to any of Quentin's work functions. I don't know any of his colleagues." You look down into the mug. ""I...I'm not sure I can approach them."

"I think you can." Wanda's tone is firm. "Its possible that something happened at work that caused this."

You look at Wanda, feeling pathetically grateful that she isn't saying _he left because of you_. Doubts about your marriage and your role within it have been coursing through your mind for the past two days. Wondering if you made Quentin feel supported enough, loved enough, appreciated enough. You take another swallow of coffee. "OK."

"Excellent." Wanda looks pleased. "I'll call the HQ. See if I can get an appointment for today."

You nod. Wordlessly, you push the covers off and get out of bed, heading to the shower.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What'cha doing?"

Beck flicked his head up, and turned to look at Peter. They were both still in the hotel room, Beck sitting at the desk. He smiled. "Making a list of how we're going to split the assets."

"You and...?"

"Yes." Beck nodded. "I think its only fair that she gets to keep the house." He looked at Peter. "I mean, you get me."

Peter blinked. "Where shall we live?"

Beck frowned slightly. "You didn't have a fantasy of us moving into my marital home, did you, Pete? I mean, that's really pretty sleazy. Me moving in with my handsome young buck, my poor wife out on the street...we'll need to build relations with people when we get back. We don't need neighbours, friends, colleagues turning on us."

"No, I didn't mean that," Peter protested, defensively. "I just meant - where shall we live?"

"An apartment." Quentin looked at him, his expression softening. "I would like to be close to her. She is a very important person in my life."

"I know." Pete nodded. "I'd like to make sure May gets to know you."

"We both have very special women in our lives, Peter," Quentin said softly. "Without them, we wouldn't be the men we are." He pulled out a map. "Somewhere close to the centre of town, easy for work."

"School?"

"Of course," Quentin chuckled. "I can't have an ignoramus as a partner, you know that."

"Will I...still go to the same school?"

"Very likely."

"But, Quentin, she still works there!!"

Quentin fixed him with a look. "Peter. You can't spend your life avoiding people because of who you love. My wife is one of the kindest, sweetest people in the world. She will accept this more easily than you think. All she's ever wanted is to make me happy. So us returning, you going to that school...it'll be fine."

"As long as you're sure."

"Don't you trust me?" Beck's smile was becoming increasingly fixed. Peter swallowed, and nodded. "Course I do."

"Good." Beck slid round in his chair, and placed his hand on Peter's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You need to trust me Pete. I know what's best for you, for us. That's why you love me, right?"

Peter nodded. "That's right." 

"Right." Beck picked Peter's hand up. "Now, if you're OK, I'm going to go for a run. Surely it can't have escaped your notice I'm getting a bit fat and lazy. If I carry on lik this youll be trading me in for a more handsome, slimmer model."

Peter shook his head. "Never."

Beck quirked an eyebrow. "Good."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You swallow nervously. Sitting in the lobby of Stark Technologies was somewhat intimidating. Everyone seemed focused, purposeful. The decor was discreet and chic, and a buzz of ingenuity seemed to crackle in the air. 

"Ms (Y/N)?"

You blink, and look up. The receptionist is nodding at you. You get up, Wanda remaining on the soft leather couch. 

"Mr Stark will see you in his office, its on the fourth floor." She turned to a large man. "Mr Hogan, can you do the escorting?"

"Of course," he nods, and the two of you are walking up the pale carpeted corridor. Once you get in the elevator, you don't speak. You don't need to. Hogan looks at the control panel. 

"This way." You blink as the elevator stops and the doors slide open. You walk next to him - he's measuring his strides to match yours - and suddenly you're at a large, panelled door. Hogan looks at you, and smiles. "Go ahead."

As you knock, you can hear movement in the room. A voice calls out "Come in!" 

You walk in, and immediately your eyes zero onto the handsome man sitting behind a desk. Whilst its a known fact that Pepper Potts is the CEO and runs the business administration of Stark Inc, Tony Stark is still the key design officer. He gets up, and extends a hand to you. "Ms (Y/N). Good to meet you. How can I help?"

You sink into a soft leather chair. Stark smiles, reassuringly. You begin to speak. "My husband has vanished, Mr Stark. I'm just here to find out if anything happened at work that influenced his decision to leave."

Stark's eyes narrow slightly. "Who is your husband?"

"Quentin Beck."

Stark leaned back in his chair. "Do you and your husband talk to each other, at all?"

You're offended. "Yes, we do. Why?"

"Because then you'd know that I fired him. A month ago."

You look at Stark, and your jaw drops. "But...that's not possible," you say, hating how weak your voice sounds. "When he disappeared, I rang the number he gave me...he told me it was the number for security-"

You stop. "He's-" You get up. "Thank you, Mr Stark."

"Wait!" Stark springs out of his chair. "Please, sit down. My assistant will get you some water." You stop, feeling foolish. Stark smiles reassuringly. "Please. You need to know what happened with Quentin." He pressed a button on his desk phone, and a young woman entered with a bottle of water. "Allow me to explain."


End file.
